


Satan's Got a Heart On

by matchstick_dolly



Series: Now That's What I Call Big Devil Energy! [2]
Category: Lucifer (TV)
Genre: Big Devil Energy is back, Established Relationship, F/M, Fluff, Fuckruary 2020 (Lucifer TV), Future Fic, Happy, Humor, No Angst, POV Chloe, Post-Season/Series 04, Romance, Sexual Content, Valentine's Day, devil behaving badly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-16
Updated: 2020-02-16
Packaged: 2021-02-27 19:22:00
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,611
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22760905
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/matchstick_dolly/pseuds/matchstick_dolly
Summary: It's Valentine's Day, and Lucifer has no intention of letting Chloe forget it.
Relationships: Chloe Decker/Lucifer Morningstar
Series: Now That's What I Call Big Devil Energy! [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1635526
Comments: 42
Kudos: 352





	Satan's Got a Heart On

**Author's Note:**

  * For [MoanDiary](https://archiveofourown.org/users/MoanDiary/gifts).



> For [Fuckruary 2020](https://freakyfebruary.tumblr.com)'s "Blindfold" prompt. The title comes from Jim Jones and The Righteous Mind's "[Satan's Got His Heart Set on You](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=LyvPb-BijiE)." Thanks to [Obli](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ObliObla/pseuds/ObliObla) for her peepers.

Time ran differently in the morning. Whether Chloe snoozed her alarm for ten minutes or woke an hour early, she was never out the door when she intended to be. Now, she ran downstairs, shrugging into a jacket as she went, her hair still damp against her neck from showering. 

"Have you got your homework packed, Trix?" she called as she passed her daughter's room in a rush.

"Almost!"

Chloe hopped on one foot while shoving the other into a boot. "Okay, well, we need to leave." She glanced at the clock on the microwave and cringed. "Like, five minutes ago."

"Coming!" Trixie ran to join her, clothes mismatched, hair a messy tangle.

Sometimes you really saw yourself in your children. Chloe blinked, shook her head, and snagged her keys from the dish by the door. There was no time to address any of it.

"Let's go, baby."

Traffic was bad, but then it usually was. With as many people and as little public transport as L.A. had, there was always a rush hour, a car accident, or an event. Long columns of cars stretched ahead of them, stuck in a standstill. Chloe propped her elbow up on the edge of her car door and sighed. 

"Mom, _look_!" Trixie cried, craning her neck to peer out the passenger window toward the sky. 

Chloe leaned over the steering wheel and peeked at the blue sky through the windshield. A skywriter was in the process of stirring up a word in the heavens. The pilot had gotten as far as the letter _D_. 

"What do you think it'll say?" Trixie asked. 

"It's probably an ad," Chloe said, leaning back in her seat. 

Traffic started moving again while Trixie continued to lean against the window and watch the skywriter. 

"D-E..." 

"D-E-T... Det?" 

"D-E-T-E... Dete?" 

By now, even Chloe was curious about the message as she ran through possible company names in her head. Try as she might, she knew of none that started with "Dete."

Trixie sounded out the word again. "Detec?" 

It hit her like a punch to the teeth. "Oh, no," Chloe murmured, her stomach dropping with preemptive embarrassment. 

"Detect— Oh! Oh, it's _detective_! Like you, Mom! It's gotta be!" Trixie bounced as excitedly in her seat as her seatbelt would allow. She gasped loudly. "Did Lucifer do this?"

"He'd be the only one crazy enough."

"There's more, Mom!"

Chloe turned at an intersection. "What's it say?" she asked, working to keep agitation out of her voice.

"Be... M..."

"Be... M-I..."

"Be... Min... _Mine_! Be mine! _Detective, be mine_! It's a valentine!" Trixie then subsided into giggles and chants about K-I-S-S-I-N-G that Chloe had not heard in over twenty years. 

"First comes looove, then comes mar—" 

"Honey, not everybody gets married." And she _definitely_ wasn't getting knocked up by the Devil. The thought of Lucifer pushing a "baby carriage" down the road while sipping from his flask nearly broke her.

She pulled into the drop-off zone for Trixie's school. They were late enough that there was no line. Normally, parents would need to provide some excuse for their children's tardiness, but lateness was one area where Chloe and Dan somewhat inappropriately pulled their cop cards. Trixie could be up to a half-hour late and no one thought anything of it.

"Got everything, monkey?" 

"Uh-huh." 

She parked in front of the school. "Hey, uh, Trix, you might not want to tell anybody about the skywriting, okay? People can be mean, and I wouldn't want someone to make fun of you for something that's going on between Lucifer and me." 

"That's okay." Trixie shrugged and threw open the passenger door. "They would only make fun of me once!" she said ominously, and launched herself out of the sedan. 

"What's that supposed to—" 

The door slammed shut. 

Chloe could tell it was going to be one of those days as she drove away from Trixie's school. And not just any day, either. It was _Valentine's Day_ , her least favorite "holiday" outside of Father's Day, for obvious reasons. She had told Lucifer she hated it. 

At a stoplight, she jotted off a quick text: _Skywriting?? Really??_ Lucifer replied almost immediately with the heart-eyed emoji. She stared at her phone, waiting for him to say more—waiting and waiting, until someone behind her honked. The light had turned green.

Despite her initial irritation, she had almost accepted the skywriting by the time she neared the station. Relationships were about compromise. _She_ might hate Valentine's Day, but Lucifer had never said _he_ did, and, well, this was his _first_ Valentine's Day with someone he loved—her—and maybe that was special. Maybe she could make a little room for him to be over-the-top with his affections. Maybe it was even sweet.

But then she saw the billboard. She'd just turned down Santa Monica Boulevard when a new, bright red billboard on the right caught her eye. A circle with a lighter shade of red sat in its center and contained a single emoji—the detective emoji, to be exact.

"Goddammit." Realizing what she'd said, she glanced at the dissipating BE MINE in the sky and muttered an apology.

As she crawled down Santa Monica, she encountered two more billboards designed in the same style with single, space-wasting letters: _U_ and _R_. For a long time, nothing followed, to the point that she was convinced there'd been a mistake. But then a very short distance—too short of a distance—before the precinct, two more billboards hit in quick succession.

The first contained the fire emoji. Despite her ire, she snorted. But her amusement was short-lived as she turned into the station and noticed a final red billboard across the street. On it, the eggplant emoji was placed to the left of three splashing water droplets. 

Chloe jerked the wheel and turned into the nearest parking space, which was far from her assigned spot. Grabbing her phone, she jammed a finger against Lucifer's face to call him. The call rang and rang and rang until finally the familiar, irritatingly smug voice of the Devil himself could be heard.

" _Hello_ there."

"Lucifer, _what_ —"

"I can't answer your call right now"—Chloe huffed in disbelief—"so if you'd like to leave your name and number, I'll get back to you as soon as possible." She was about to end the call when his answering message continued, "Oh! And before you go, I'd like to share a little poem with you." He cleared his throat dramatically and recited, "Detectives are Hot, Tub High School is the best." _Oh, God_. "Every time I see those boobies, I am hashtag blessed. Happy Valentine's Day!"

There was a beep for her to record a message. For a moment, Chloe breathed like a bull. Finally, she growled into the receiver, " _What the fuck_? Lucifer, the skywriting was enough! The billboards—near _work_?" She spluttered nonsensically. "You can't _do_ that! And a _poem_ in your voicemail message, about my _boobs_? _Really_? Fix. It."

Chloe parked in her assigned spot and strode into the station as if she thought her boots could devour the earth. She hadn't been this frustrated with Lucifer in, well, she wasn't even sure. At the harvest festival? Before he went to Hell? Before she knew he was the literal Devil? Was this _Candy_ bad?

No. No, it wasn't Candy bad.

She jogged down the steps to the robbery-homicide division where she worked, her eyes darting from one uni to next. She expected to find her coworkers looking at her, judging, maybe whispering to one another. There were a lot of things she'd had to live down since becoming a detective: _Hot Tub High School_ (now featuring in a fucking answering message!), Palmetto, being seen as the LAPD bicycle between Dan and Pierce. Lucifer was charismatic enough that her reputation had improved tremendously since they'd begun dating, but she felt like orgasmic eggplant emojis might be pushing it, even for the Devil.

But no one looked at her. In fact, most on duty were too busy being gathered around the glass partition near her desk to notice she had arrived at all. Chloe paused, apprehensive, at the bottommost step. What...had drawn their attention? She was seriously considering turning around and taking a sick day when Ella exited her forensics lab.

"There you are! Dude, come see what Lucifer did!"

Chloe clung to the stairwell's railing like it was a raft. "Is it bad?"

"What?" Ella asked, confused. "No, it's really sweet. Like, literally!" 

Latching onto one of Chloe's arms, Ella dragged her to the partition and through the congregating mass of officers and detectives. On the other side, there were roses, and not just a dozen of them. There were a _dozen_ dozen roses in shades of red and pink and white. Seven vases covered the entirety of her desk, two were braced precariously atop her chair, and three more were set on the surrounding floor.

It was _entirely_ impractical—and she hated roses!

"I hate roses," she grouched. The onlookers glanced at her warily before clearing the area. This was not the Instagram-worthy reaction they were hoping for.

"Dude, they're not real!" Ella said, bouncing a little. "That's what's so cool!"

"Huh?"

Ella waved her over to the vases. "See?" She pointed at a blooming flower. "They're _chocolate_."

Chloe blinked in surprise as she peered close and finally recognized the smooth swoop of molded confectionary. Each flower was so uniquely and carefully crafted that even up close the texture and softly painted food coloring almost fooled the eye. The biggest tell, now that she was interested in paying attention, was the scent of cocoa and sugar that wafted up from the flowers. Only the stems appeared inedible, constructed as they were of some sturdy fabric and wiring that held everything together.

Arms akimbo, Chloe stood back and scowled at the roses, trying to hold onto her fury from the billboard fiasco. Hesitantly, she took hold of a petal and broke off a piece of chocolate. It felt wrong to destroy such artwork, but...chocolate was chocolate.

"Want some?" she asked Ella wryly. "It's not like I can eat all of this." Ella jumped at the opportunity as Chloe popped her own piece into her mouth. She hated that it was the _best_ chocolate she had ever tasted. "Did you see the, um, _signs_?" she asked quietly after several long moments of their quiet munching.

"You mean the"—Ella jerked a hand up and down several times before opening her fist wide in a crude simulacrum of ejaculation—" _sploosh_?"

"Oh my G—oodness," Chloe moaned. "Please don't."

"Relax," Ella chuckled, breaking off another petal. "Most people don't pay any attention to those signs, and who would even know Lucifer was behind them? The only reason we know is because we actually know him."

Chloe's shoulders slumped a little. "You think so?"

"Yeah." Ella smiled.

Dan rounded the partition. "What the hell, Chloe, did you see the billboards?" He stopped short and looked at the numerous vases in confusion. "Do you guys smell chocolate?"

* * *

***

* * *

Chloe parked near the yellow police tape outside the Elevation Oxygen Bar in Santa Monica. Before exiting her vehicle, she sent another text to Lucifer. _I can't believe you don't want to be here for this. A murder. At an oxygen bar._ As an afterthought, she added: _Btw, I'm not angry anymore, but we need to talk._ Finally, she sent a heart and devil emoji.

He hadn't said anything to her since the heart-eyed emoji earlier in the day, which worried her. Either her voicemail had come off far worse than she'd intended or he was up to something. Given the skywriting, billboards, and roses, she was most concerned about the latter possibility. 

With a sigh, Chloe focused on the ridiculous case at hand. Sometimes she got put on cases that were so L.A. it was hard to believe she'd ever left acting. The places, people, and scenarios were absurd enough that they felt like they belonged more on a movie set than to real life—and yet, this was real life. It was just really L.A., too. Where else would a bleached-blond baby boomer with enough Botox to refreeze a melting glacier strangle a young man with oxygen tubing at a business where the slogan was literally _Reach Nirvana_?

As far as homicide cases went, it was fairly open and shut. Everything was caught on the security camera, an APB had been issued for a woman already ID'd as Rhonda Harrison, and now there was just the matter of processing evidence and figuring out who else, if anyone, had been involved. What were the odds Elevation had no other patrons at the time of the murder and that the owner of the bar, a thirty-five-year-old man named Juston, had no connections to either Rhonda or the victim?

"Had you seen Rhonda here before?" she asked Juston.

"I don't remember everybody who comes into Elevation," he said evasively, fingers tapping against the bar counter. 

The nervous tick could be cause for suspicion or a simple sign of general anxiety. It wasn't as if people _liked_ talking to cops after a murder had gone down in their midst.

As Chloe interviewed Juston, she longed for Lucifer's commentary and mojo. She liked to think she didn't need either, but she wasn't foolish enough to forget how much her closure rate had dropped during his stint in Hell. And how _could_ she forget? Lucifer was fond of reminding her of it.

She needed her partner. She was about to pause the interview and try calling Lucifer again when the sound of guitars, violins, and trumpets drifted in from the street, followed soon by several men's voices joining in a Spanish ballad. There was nothing quite so recognizable as a live mariachi band breaking into song.

"Um," Chloe began, holding up a hand, "let's pause things here, Juston. I need to make a call. Hang tight for ten?" 

Juston nodded, looking as perplexed by the music as she felt. She meandered outdoors to see what was going on. Standing just outside the police tape, eleven men dressed in red, white, and pink charro suits sang and played instruments beneath white-and-red sombreros. Behind the crime scene tape, Ella danced to the music with one of the newer unis, an awkward white boy who looked like his year was being made. It would have been cute, except that this was a crime scene that deserved as much respect as a homicide at an oxygen bar could get.

Chloe waltzed up to the edge of the tape, waving her arms at the mariachi band in the universal sign of _pack it up_. The singing petered out uncertainly followed by several discordant notes from the instruments.

" _Aww_ ," Ella whined. 

"This is an active crime scene," Chloe said firmly to the band members, hoping she wouldn't need Ella to interpret.

"You must be the detective!" the lead singer said with a huge grin that puffed up his round cheeks. Several band members cooed _oh_ and nudged each other.

 _Oh_ , indeed.

"Don't tell me," Chloe sighed. "You've been hired by Lucifer Morningstar."

" _Sí_ ," the singer said happily. "We follow you the whole day, Detective."

Chloe laughed in disbelief. "No. No, I don't think so."

" _Sí_. Señor Morningstar's orders."

"Well, Señor Morningstar isn't here." And she was beginning to see why. "And _I'm_ saying this is an active crime scene that doesn't have room for a mariachi band."

"Did someone die?" one of the singers asked with wide eyes.

"You want sad songs?" the lead singer suggested. "We know sad songs."

"No?" Chloe said, shaking her head. "Thank you, but no. I'd like you to leave. I'll make sure Lucifer pays you."

"No, no," the lead singer said, his tone turning desperate. "No payment. We _must_ play, Detective! We _owe_ Señor Morningstar! If we play for you today, our debt is paid."

"Please," said the other singer who had spoken before. "He is very scary man."

All eleven musicians nodded in unison. 

They didn't know the half of it.

Chloe pursed her lips and inhaled deeply. "Okay," she breathed out a moment later. "But you can't play this close to my crime scene. And play more softly!"

The leader singer clapped in triumph. " _Sí, sí_! Gracias, Detective!" 

After a few commands from their leader, the musicians turned on their boot heels and glided down the block, already taking up their instruments and singing once more. Rubbing her temples, Chloe turned back to Elevation.

"They're singing really nice love songs, you know," Ella said, falling into step beside her.

Chloe stood at the edge of Elevation's doorway some time after Ella had entered to continue processing evidence. She listened to the band from a distance, their Spanish flowing over her like a warm wave.

 _Tienes la ternura_  
_Que yo no encontraba_  
_Eres simplemente_  
_La mitad que me faltaba_

She couldn't understand a word of it.

* * *

***

* * *

Hours later, Chloe was exhausted by romantic gestures. The mariachi band had followed her _everywhere_ , and she ran across two more emoji billboards while driving around town: one with a pointing finger and the "OK" hand; the other featuring the face with its tongue out, two fingers lifted in the peace sign, and the honeypot. 

At her favorite cafe, the barista winked and handed her a latte with anatomically correct heart art. It paired well with the suggestive stick figures Chloe found drawn into the dust on her dirty car when she left several minutes later. She was certain they hadn't been there when she'd entered the cafe.

Coffee in hand, mariachi music eating a hole into her head, Chloe stood at the back of her Dodge and looked around. Knowing she'd only just missed Lucifer, a strange combination of irritation and excitement ran through her. She held a hand over her brows and gazed up, half expecting to see brilliant wings in flight. 

She returned to the precinct to finish some paperwork before calling it a day. She sighed in relief as she entered the building. As the mariachi band smartly chose to stay off LAPD premises, this was the first real break she'd gotten from the music in hours. 

At her desk, the vases of chocolate roses had been neatly packed into six boxes in her absence, which she was happier about than she wanted to admit; she had not wanted that chocolate to go to waste. 

Beside her keyboard and the stacked chocolate boxes, a new package the size of a shoebox waited for her. Chloe sat in her office chair and hesitantly picked up the gift, which was wrapped in red paper and sported a large white bow. She gave the box a gentle shake. Whatever was inside didn't weigh but a few pounds, and it made no sound.

Carefully, she peeled back the red wrapping paper from one end of the gift. She squinted at the lipstick kiss logo with the crooked halo above it. Rose...Kiss...

With a small gasp, Chloe slapped the paper closed over the gift. That was a vibrator. Just sitting on her desk! For who knew how long! Her entire face and chest went hot. Was it worse than the sex doll? It felt worse than the sex doll. Because she had no doubt it was meant for her.

Muttering to herself, she stood at once, gathered up all her boxes, kicked her chair into place, and made a beeline for the stairs. It was a good thing Dan had Trixie for the night because she and the Devil needed to have a reckoning.

* * *

***

* * *

She drove straight to Lux—or as straight as the late afternoon traffic would allow—all the while hyperaware of the mariachi band's beat-up, sky blue van stalking close behind. She gripped her steering wheel tightly, rehearsing in her head all the things she planned to say to Lucifer about respecting boundaries and public decency and, really, _what the fuck_.

When she finally arrived at Lucifer's building, she pulled into the right lane where the valets stood in wait. Kyle, the young Asian man who had been Lux's primary valet for as long as Chloe had known Lucifer, rushed toward her vehicle when he recognized it.

Chloe shoved open her door and got out of her car before remembering she was leaving a vibrator—a vibrator!—in the passenger's seat. Diving back in briefly, she grabbed the package in a way that would conceal its open end, got out again, and nearly ran straight into Kyle.

"Detective!" he squeaked. "These are for you." He held out a small bouquet of red-and-white carnations. 

They were pretty—and the very last thing Chloe wanted to see right now.

A frustrated growl sounded in the back of her throat. "Just park my damn car, Kyle." She held out the keys. "And for the love of G— Don't let a light blue van in here." She'd managed to give them the slip a few blocks ago, but she'd grown paranoid.

"Yes, ma'am." Kyle withdrew the flowers and took the keys at once. "Er, the boss is in the club tonight."

Chloe had enough presence of mind to thank him before heading straight for the club's entrance, where the bouncers knew to let her through, and were smart enough not to bother with pleasantries when her face looked like it did right now. 

Inside, Lux had been converted into a naughty Valentine's Day fantasy to the tune of... _NSYNC_? Chloe stopped and stared. The cage dancers wore tiny strips of red cloth and white strappy sandals. Below them, the club was awash with a dark red glow from tinted lighting. Red and white balloons floated about the dance floor as clubgoers batted them back and forth while singing along to the lyrics. 

Lingering near the entrance, Chloe searched for the telltale sign of Lucifer's gravitational pull while trying not to think about how she was carrying around a vibrator. 

_There_. In the far right corner of the club, an abnormal clustering of people drew her attention. She walked toward them, pushing past bodies, only to stumble slightly when cheers broke out on the dance floor as the music track changed, and the Goo Goo Dolls began to play. This was _not_ the kind of music you heard in Lux. It was the kind of music you heard if you opened her Spotify app.

She pushed past the final wall of bodies, and there he was, the king of Hell himself. Long legs crossed, a tumbler of liquor in one hand, he spoke animatedly to a couple beside him, pausing only when the young black woman looked up at her. Lucifer turned, and she tried not to let it get to her how his entire demeanor changed, how he became just a little less of a host and instead more of a smitten boy.

Chloe stopped a few feet away and set her jaw to keep from smiling. "You are _infuriating_."

Lucifer sipped his whisky, the corners of his eyes crinkling. Pulling the glass away from his mouth, he gave her a smug smirk. "Repulsed on a chemical level, are you?" 

"You're even _dressed_ for today?"

He had a pin the size of a silver dollar on one of his black lapels. A thin outline of a heart, the brooch was crafted either from white gold or platinum, and went well with the dark red pocket square that was patterned with tiny hearts colored a lighter shade of red. The fabric itself was folded into the shape of a flower bud. 

"Oh, this old thing?" Lucifer chuckled, adjusting his lapel. "Don't you like when I've got a heart on for you, darling?"

Chloe glared at him. "I _told_ you I hated Valentine's Day." 

" _No_ , you told me you hated roses." 

"You got me roses!" 

"I got you _chocolate_ ," he corrected, eyes sparkling. "And where are your carnations?"

Chloe's brow furrowed. "You had a mariachi band follow me around the entire day."

Lucifer grinned slightly. "You told me you hate barbershop quartets. And Hallmark greetings! Can't say you got a single Hallmark greeting, can you?"

She stared at him, feeling off kilter. More weakly, she said, "I hate PDA, Lucifer." 

"The billboards and skywriter made no mention of your name, did they?" 

That was a technicality in pure devilish form if she ever heard one, but Chloe felt her agitation begin to deflate, just the same. "The voicemail message was pretty obvious."

He scoffed. "Well, I won't apologize for poetry."

"You're proving a point," she said. 

"Mm." Lucifer set his glass aside and stood. He ate up the small distance between them until he was inside her personal space, so that he was forced to look down, and she was forced to look up. "And what point is that, Detective?" 

"That you know me," she answered as softly as the music would allow. 

He grinned. "I _do_ know you, don't I?"

Chloe looked down at the wrapped package in her arms. "The vibrator at work was really inappropriate."

Lucifer laughed, all teeth and joy, and she felt herself smiling with him. "Bring that upstairs, and I promise I'll make it up to you." He looked toward the dance floor. "Or perhaps you'd like to join the crowd? They appear to share your horrible taste in music."

"Is this my playlist?"

"It is."

Sometimes she really wished she could stay angry with him for longer than a few minutes at a time. Now, she snaked out a hand and grabbed hold of one of his. "Let's go upstairs."

"Ooh?" he laughed, brows lifting as he allowed himself to be tugged along. "Whatever you say, dear."

They wove through the crowd, and Chloe felt like she was floating as she thought over the day. No one could spin her up like Lucifer, but then maybe that came with the territory of being truly seen. 

In the elevator, Lucifer jabbed the button for the doors to close and turned toward her. Digging into a trouser pocket, he pulled out a thin strip of black silk, which he dangled in the air between them. "Care for one final surprise?"

"The mariachi band isn't hiding upstairs, is it?"

Lucifer snorted and waved his key card at a sensor to access the penthouse. "Promise it's something you'll like."

"Okay." 

She closed her eyes and turned as the elevator drew upward. Silk settled across her eyes, warm and soft. At the back of her head, the fabric pulled as Lucifer knotted it into place. She smiled when he pressed a kiss to her hair.

The elevator door slid open, and Lucifer's hands engulfed her shoulders to slowly guide her forward. Despite the trying day, she was excited as she stepped into the penthouse.

Lucifer pulled them to a stop. "Now, do you remember when you told me of all the things you disliked about Valentine's Day?"

It had been some months back. "I think so."

"What was it you told me made for a quality night in your book?"

The smile that pulled at her mouth now hurt her cheeks. "Beer, pizza, and a good time?"

The blindfold slid away from her skin, shifting her hair gently. Chloe's eyes fell on the coffee table, where a small cooler holding brown beer bottles on ice stood beside a covered, round food warmer she knew she would find pizza under. Unbidden, tears stung at the edges of her eyes.

Lucifer sighed. "You're leaky again." But unlike in times past, it was a happy sigh because now he knew _she_ was happy.

"Shut up." Turning aside, she put the inappropriate work gift on his bar counter before spinning back and leaping toward him.

Gasping with laughter, Lucifer caught her, and she wrapped her legs around his hips. "Not in the mood for dinner?" he joked, his voice low and rough.

"I want my good time," she said, and pushed her smiling mouth to his as her fingers found the buttons to his shirt. She bit at his bottom lip, pulling a groan from him. "Sofa."

"Very well," he murmured, hands kneading her thighs and ass.

He fell back roughly on the sofa, knocking the breath out of both of them. Chloe pushed back his black suit jacket, and they tore it from his arms to throw it aside. Soon his shirt joined it, and her hands fell to his chest, where she explored lines and curves as if they were her own. In a way, they were.

Leaning back and grinding against the firm flesh between his hips, she yanked off her jacket and shirt. Lucifer's mouth latched onto her neck, one hand eagerly encircling and squeezing a breast, while the other swept behind her and unhooked her bra. 

Without barriers, Chloe slid down his thighs until they touched, skin to skin. Lucifer pressed his face between her breasts and sighed. Running hands across his shoulders and neck, Chloe slid her fingers through his hair and tugged on the strands, forcing his head back so he would look at her. For a long moment, they stared at one another, smiling a little.

"Not the worst day?" he asked.

"I could have done without the ejaculating eggplant. And the honeypot."

He slid a hand between them to unbutton and unzip her jeans. "But I _love_ your sweet—"

"Please don't"—she inhaled as his fingers wriggled into her panties—"call it that."

"Whatever you desire," he chuckled, sweeping a finger across her clit.

What she desired was him. Giving him a rough kiss, she let go of his hair, pulled his hand out of her pants, and stood. He watched her with hooded eyes, his black pants tented, as she wriggled out of her jeans and green-striped panties. When she was naked before him, she bent and unbuckled his belt before unbuttoning his trousers. They both laughed as his cock sprang up of its own accord.

Chloe patted one of his thighs. "Lift up your hips?"

He did as she asked, and she pulled his pants down to his knees. Close enough, she thought, climbing atop him once more.

"Someone's eager."

She jerked her hips, straining toward him. They moaned together, his hands finding her breasts, hers finding his hard length, as she ground against him and slipped her tongue between his teeth. He drove her insane with all his games and teasing and good looks, and most of all, with his sly kindnesses.

When they were both slick with her arousal and her desire was kissing the edge of pain, Chloe rose up on her knees and angled her body over his. She held Lucifer's dark gaze as she pushed down on his cock, moaning at the delicious stretch, at his fingertips digging into her flesh.

"That's it," he sighed as he filled her. He thumbed her clit and gently pinched one of her nipples as he kissed her. 

Chloe worked against him, keeping him deep inside as he carried her higher. Her breathing was loud in the quiet of the penthouse. When she couldn't take it anymore, she clutched onto the back of the sofa and pulled up before falling back onto him. She started a frantic, hungry rhythm, her nose in his hair, her lips brushing the shell of his ear as she moaned.

"Yes," he gasped, his hands finding her waist to help her move in a way that was just at the edge of inhuman.

The line between where he ended and she began had blurred a long time ago, and as Chloe moved on him, she lost herself to the sweet sin of lying with one who knew her lovely and ugly and mean.

Her peak hit her hard and by surprise. Shouting "oh," she jerked against him, her muscles clenching and trembling.

"Oh, thank fuck," Lucifer groaned and slammed her body close to his. His head fell to the back of the sofa as he came, moaning through the waves of pleasure.

Chloe watched him, rolling her hips gently. They shivered against each other in the aftermath, skin dewed by sweat and thighs slick with their coupling. Chloe hummed beside Lucifer's ear as he dragged his hands up and down her back soothingly.

Her stomach growled loudly between them, and they laughed. "I think I could go for that beer and pizza now," she joked.

She squealed as he tilted her back, holding them connected as he reached out a long arm and grabbed two beers from the cooler. Relaxing beneath her once more, he handed her one bottle and took the other in hand, using his thumb alone to pop the cap free. 

"Okay, that's a cool trick," she said, brushing damp hair from her forehead while squinting at the unopened bottle in her hand.

He traded bottles with her and repeated the action. "Happy Valentine's Day, darling," he said, clinking his bottle with hers. "I'll have to give Miguel a whole new list of songs to sing next year."

"He paid off his debt and then some," Chloe replied wryly. Rolling her eyes good-naturedly, she sipped her beer, the rich malt of the stout coating her tongue. She held the cold bottle to her chest and smiled at her partner gently. _Be mine_ , he'd teased. "I am yours, you know?" she said, nudging his hip with her knee.

Lucifer's expression softened and felt like home. "I know." She felt him stiffen in her body, and they laughed together almost shyly. "All of me knows," he admitted with a lopsided grin.

**Author's Note:**

> The song lyrics mentioned in this fic are from Alejandro Fernández's "[La Mitad Que Me Faltaba](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Eaquhm0fCs)." They can be roughly translated as "You hold the tenderness / I had never found / You are simply / The half I was missing."


End file.
